


I'll Share My Ice Cream (and my Heart)

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Bonding, Family, Family Dynamics, Found Family, Gen, Trust Issues, sirius raises harry au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 08:31:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14614128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Harry might not have been his blood, but he was his family.





	I'll Share My Ice Cream (and my Heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GingerTodgers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerTodgers/gifts).



> Thank you AB for the beta <3
> 
> For May's rarepair bingo using the fills old photographs, sharing ice cream, chocolate pudding, found family, two dads, "when I see your face, there's not a thing that I would change"

“Can I have an ice cream?” Harry asked, his bare feet padding across the kitchen floor as he clambered up into the seat beside Sirius. 

“I thought you were sleeping,” Sirius answered, dodging the question and resisting the urge to reach over and pull Harry into a hug. Harry was still wary around him sometimes, even after nearly a year. Sirius blamed the Dursleys. Merlin, he hated them.

“Wasn’t tired,” Harry said right before his mouth opened in a huge yawn. Sirius glanced at the clock above the small open window —11:45, it read—it was well past Harry’s bedtime and not at all an appropriate time for more ice cream. Well, not for Harry, anyway.

“You already had chocolate pudding, half pint,” Sirius tried, reaching out to ruffle his hair when Harry frowned.

“But you’re having ice cream.” 

Sirius tried not to laugh. Harry was at the age where everything was compartmentalised into things that were fair and not fair —the latter of which usually revolved around Harry not be allowed to have second helpings of sweets. Sirius knew better than to laugh at Harry, though. He’d gotten a nasty shock when he did it last week and the lights in the kitchen had immediately popped off. He’d thought it was a power cut. It was only when he’d seen Harry’s tiny clenched fists beneath the table that Sirius realised it’d been Harry’s first burst of accidental magic. Harry didn’t take kindly to thinking he was being laughed at. 

“Tell you what, how about we share,” Sirius said, sliding his half-eaten bowl of ice cream towards Harry. It was a gamble. Harry didn’t like food someone else had eaten, but he loved ice cream.

Harry picked up the spoon, poking at the chunks of chocolate in the vanilla ice cream before shrugging to himself and digging the spoon in, lifting it to his mouth. 

“Are you my dad?” Harry asked abruptly around a mouthful of the ice cream.

Sirius’s blood went cold and he faltered, unsure how to answer. He wasn’t, he knew he wasn’t, and he knew Harry knew that too. They’d spent hours just yesterday looking at old photographs of James and Lily. But Sirius was smart enough to know Harry had a good reason for asking him like that. Sometimes Sirius thought Harry was six years old going on sixty—too serious for his small body and wise beyond his years. He knew the wrong answer now would set back the months of fragile trust he’d earned.

“James was your dad, Harry,” he said kindly, rubbing his hand up and down Harry’s back, more for himself than for Harry. “But I’m your family, too. I love you as if you were my own.”

Harry appeared to be mulling it over as he dug his spoon around in the bowl chasing the last bit of melted ice cream. “So...I have two dads?”

Sirius exhaled, exceedingly glad the kitchen was too dark for Harry to be able to see his face properly. “If you want.”

“Can we go to the park tomorrow?” Harry asked. 

Sirius was used to Harry’s rapid change of topics and he sighed in relief, pleased he’d apparently answered in a way that made Harry happy.  _ Happy _ . Sirius had never spent so much of his time trying to make another person happy. Sirius had fought tooth and nail for four years to garner his freedom, and the first thing he’d done upon being cleared by the Wizengamot was to get custody of Harry. That’d been nearly a year ago, and while Sirius didn’t regret it once, he had to admit it was harder than he’d ever imagined it might be. He’d known it wouldn’t be easy, of course, but he hadn’t been fully prepared for the reality of trying to raise a small human. Especially not one who’d been raised to think he was worthless, one who so vehemently distrusted adults.

“Sirius!” Harry yelled, poking Sirius hard in the side with his spoon. “Are you listening to my words?”

Sirius bit back a laugh. “Yes, Harry, sorry. I was thinking. Of course we can go to the park tomorrow.”

“Can we go to the one with the ducks?” Harry asked, head drooping to the side as he yawned. “I like ducks.”

“Course we can, short stack. We can bring lunch and you can feed the ducks.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, voice getting heavy.

“You tired?” Sirius asked, brushing the fringe from Harry’s forehead and feeling a rush of affection as he remembered the way Harry had looked just before bed earlier, cheeks flushed from running barefoot in the garden, toes covered in dirt, and his eyes alight with happiness.

“I’m not tired,” Harry insisted, but he let the spoon fall to the floor as he leaned to the side. Sirius reacted immediately, reaching his hands under Harry’s arms and pulling him into his lap. “M’not sleepy,” Harry whispered again, sighing heavily against Sirius’s neck.

“‘Course you’re not. We’ll just sit here for awhile. I won’t put you to bed,” Sirius promised.

Harry nodded, his small arms coming up to wrap around Sirius’s neck. “I love you, Sirius.”

“I love you too, Harry,” Sirius answered. 

It was only seconds before Harry’s breathing evened out, his body going heavy. Sirius didn’t move, though, instead he kept his promise and sat in the kitchen for long hours until his back was aching and the sun began to peek in through the kitchen window. He looked down at Harry’s sleeping form—so open and trusting in his sleep—and thought,  _ when I see your face, there’s not a thing that I would change. _

Harry might not have been his blood, but he was his family. 


End file.
